I reached out and ran my hand across it. Grit and rock brushed my fingertips. I pressed harder. The wall resisted briefly, then, with a slight sucking sound, my hand went through. Cold damp air caressed my fingertips.
I withdrew, then repeated the procedure a few feet on either side. Real wall, not magic-enhanced wall. The doorway was a foot or so wide. Enough for a human to squeeze out sideways.
Or a hellhound to get in.
I swallowed heavily and looked around at Jak. "There's a concealed exit here."
"To where?"
"Do you care?"
"Yes. But I don't fancy staying here, either."
"Keep your knife handy." I went through sword first. It felt like I was walking through molasses—the magic creating the illusion was thick and syrupy, and clung like tendrils to my body, resisting my movements and then releasing me with an odd sucking sound. I shuddered, my skin crawling with horror. Whatever—whoever—had made that wall was not into white magic.
I forced my hand back through the wall. Jak's fingers entwined with mine, and he came through as I had—shuddering.
"God, that's revolting," he muttered, shaking himself like a dog trying to rid his coat of excess water. "Where are we?"
"I have no idea."
I raised Amaya again. We were in a tunnel of some kind, and it was a tight fit—there was only an inch or two between my shoulders and the walls. Jak was forced not only to stand sideways but to keep his knees bent as well.
It wouldn't be a good place to be caught in. There was no room to fight.
I looked to the left, then the right, but couldn't see much in either direction—just the tunnel sweeping away into darkness. But as my gaze moved back to the left, the odd sense of unease increased. Something was down there. Something bad.
I shivered, then glanced up at Jak. "Does your nose tell you anything?"